


New Girl

by girlintheglen



Category: No Fandom, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 10:10:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13233522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen





	1. Not According To Plan

 

 

 

_If he just kept going and didn't stop… if he could only put one foot in front of the other without …_

_The man fell in a staggering heap beneath the lights along this pathway, his body barely discernible now as the snow continued to fall.  Soon he would be invisible beneath a layer deep enough to hide him from the enemy.  And from his own.  A few people wandered past, none of them recognized the mound of snow as a body._

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were seated at the round table in Alexander Waverly's office, the homage to Camelot that went without comment but was accorded the same veneration as the one first created for the pursuit of peaceful co-existence.

The Old Man was fiddling with his pipe, tamping and fussing with it but never lighting it.  This was always a prelude to something unpleasant, at least in the experiences shared by these two agents.  Waverly's unlit pipe told its own story.

"Gentlemen, we have a problem to solve.  One of our agents is missing, presumed dead."  Napoleon started to look at his partner but stopped short of turning his head; he felt Illya's eyes cut toward him as they each asked the obvious question.

"Who, sir?" They asked in unison.

"Trevor Dalton.  He's originally from the London office, he was acting as a courier…' Waverly's words seemed to drift out of view before he pulled them back in, continued as though reading a report rather than creating one.

"He failed to check in night before last.  He was in Paris, mired in a snow storm that covered the entire region.  His last communication with us indicated that he was being followed, probably by THRUSH and most certainly because of what he had in his possession.  At least that is what we surmised, however…'  He looked at his agents then, the hoary eyebrows raised in a manner that said 'pay attention'.

"We now believe that he passed on the package to another agent who is holed up outside of Paris waiting for the two of you to bring her out."

"Her?" Napoleon wasn't aware of any female agents within the Command, so who was Waverly referring to?  Illya was likewise stymied to comprehend the situation being relayed to them.

"Indeed, Mr. Solo, her.  April Dancer, our first female agent and perhaps our newest agent.  She was assigned to accompany Mr. Dalton on this courier run, sort of a training exercise.  We did not anticipate what has apparently transpired.  Miss Dancer is in need of your help, gentlemen.  You are scheduled to fly out within the hour, the UNCLE jet is waiting for you.  Find her, and the package in her possession.  THRUSH must not gain possession of it, do you understand?"

"Yes sir."  Again, in unison the two replied.   Napoleon was not quite finished, however.

"Are we to know the contents of this, um… package?"  Waverly looked up from the papers he had already begun to peruse.

"What? No, Mr. Solo, it is not necessary for you to know what the package is, only that is must arrive here safely.  Is there anything else?"  Napoleon looked at Illya, then back at Waverly.

"No sir, that should do it.  We'll report in as soon as we land."  Waverly did not say goodbye, he merely returned to his papers as the pair of agents walked out of the office and into the corridor beyond.

"Well, a female agent.  Did you know anything about this?"  Napoleon was CEA, top man in Section II.  He should have been told about something as important as a female agent among their ranks.

"No, but since she is starting out in London that may explain why we weren't informed.  I suppose Section I did not think it necessary to include us, although it is peculiar that we are now being called in to rescue her, if that is what we are doing."

Evangeline, serving as Waverly's assistant, caught up to them as they were heading for the elevator.

"Napoleon, Mr. Waverly asked me to give this to you.  Have a safe trip boys."  She nodded to them and headed back to her desk.

"Hmmm…' Napoleon read the note and passed it to Illya.

"Do you know him?"

"Not personally, but I have heard his name before.  He's English, I believe he was stationed in Paris.  I suppose he and Dancer both knew Dalton…"  Each man thoughtfully considered what might have happened to the agent, wondered if THRUSH had killed him already.  If Dancer had the package, then …

"Dalton must have been acting as a decoy while Dancer got away with the package.  That means they were anticipating trouble.  And now we have to include Mark Slate in the mission to find April Dancer."  Napoleon was attempting to put the pieces together based on what he had already been told.  So far, this is what made sense.

"Do you think Slate knows where to find Agent Dancer?  Perhaps there's a spot that was pre-arranged in case of something like this."

"So why are we going to Paris?  Why don't they just take care of it?"  Illya knew the London office was more than capable of sorting out something like this, as was Paris.  Why were they needed?

"I don't know Illya.  I guess we get on a plane and go find out."

 

……………

 

April Dancer was young, but she was also a capable, well trained UNCLE agent.  The fact that she had survived the night was a sign of things to come, she thought, not without a certain amount of pride in that accomplishment.

THRUSH had found out about the courier run and probably killed Trevor Dalton.  He was a nice man, good looking and … she sighed.  Survival School didn't really prepare you for this.

Looking out of the window in her little hotel room, April wondered who would come and help her get to New York.  That was the assignment: take the parcel and make certain it was placed in the hands of Alexander Waverly.  When Trevor had become aware of a THRUSH agent following them he had slipped the small package into April's coat pocket with the ease of a professional pickpocket.  She barely knew his intentions until he turned her around, kissed her and whispered into her ear, 'Get lost. Find a place to hole up in and contact New York.  See you later, beautiful.'  She did what he told her to do, breaking away and heading in the opposite direction.  April had slipped inside a boulangerie to watch Trevor disappear into the snowy streets, waiting until she saw someone who seemed to be following the UNCLE agent.  That was the last she saw of Trevor and the other man.

Now she was in hiding as she waited for help.  
  
****


	2. Getting To Know You

Trevor Dalton awoke to the most gruesome siege of pain, prickly and hard, merciless… Where was he?  The last thing he remembered was falling into the snow before losing consciousness.

The woman tending to Dalton was attempting to be gentle but she knew how painful it was for muscle and flesh to come out of a frozen state.  This poor man had come so very close to dying, but from which of his injuries she wasn't certain.  He had come into the hospital with a bullet wound in his back, miraculously not imbedded in any vital organ or his spine but the cause of a great deal of blood loss.  Hyperthermia was the other element to this near death scenario, but the patient seemed to be responding well to the treatments being administered.

 _Mon Dieu!_ How, she wondered, had this happened?

……

The flight to Paris had brought Solo and Kuryakin to France in record time, depositing them at Orly in the late afternoon.  As of their departure, Agent Dancer had been in hiding for about five hours, and now she had spent the entire night and part of the day out of sight of the THRUSH who had probably killed Trevor Dalton.  Or at least that was what was hoped by the two agents from New York.

At the curb outside of the terminal Illya spotted a rather laconic looking fellow; lanky, with a swatch of blond hair topped by a peculiar looking cap.  He recognized Mark Slate from the photo given to them by Evangeline, and nudged his partner to look in the direction of the British agent.

Mark recognized both men and straightened up immediately from his leaning posture.  The car upon which he had been reclined was a blue Citroen, the unofficial UNCLE car of choice when in France.

"Hello mates, welcome to Paris."  The grin was infectious, friendly… nothing about Slate said UNCLE Agent.  Napoleon supposed that was a good thing, but hesitated slightly as he wondered at the obvious disparity between his own appearance and this young Englishman.  Even Illya looked less hip next to him.

"Mark Slate? Hello, I'm Napoleon Solo and this…"

"Illya Kuryakin, pleased to meet you."  Illya was immediately aware of the hair, a vague imitation of his own and slightly darker.  It was somehow comforting to know other men in the Command had broken away from the conventional appearance from past decades.  The sixties were producing an entirely new breed of agent, and that didn't even touch on the fact they were all three now in search of a woman; a female agent in UNCLE.

"So, tell me Mr. Slate…" Mark seemed to recoil at the formality.

"Call me Mark.  We're all on the same team, right?"  Napoleon smiled, pleased that the new man was not anything like that Morton fellow who headed up the London office.  He'd had several run ins with him and had anticipated someone like him showing up here in Paris.  Mark Slate was a very different kind of agent.

"You're right, and thank you.  I take it you know Miss Dancer, um… April.  Do you have any idea where she is?"  Mark's grin was a give away, and suddenly the mood lightened substantially.

"I do, and I'll take you there if we can all just climb aboard."  He gestured broadly while opening the front door.  Napoleon took shotgun while Illya climbed into the back seat.  Within minutes the wild ride to April's hiding place began.

……..

April Dancer had managed to sleep, albeit with strange dreams and a restlessness that insured she would awake more fatigued than when she went to bed.  The house was safe, she had no doubts about that, and Mark Slate was bringing reinforcements with him.  Communications with UNCLE New York and London had assured her that things would be worked out by the end of the day.

She was still ruminating on a dream she had during the night.  In it there was what seemed to be a hospital or doctor's office, and a sink full of water.  What troubled her was what was in the sink: a cat seemed to floating beneath the surface of the water, staring at her as though trying to tell her something.  In her dream the cat seemed very much alive, but the water… It was very confusing, and the thing that kept coming to her was that a cat has nine lives.  What did that have to do with anything?

…….

Trevor Dalton was slowly coming back to himself, remembering everything that had transpired the previous day.  He had passed the parcel off to April and sent her to the safe house outside of Paris.  He was confident she would be safe, she was unknown to THRUSH and therefore not a target.  He had continued on, trudging through the snow until he felt it, that sharp, hot pain of a bullet tearing through flesh and muscle.

Dalton stayed upright, but not for long.  He was bleeding, his overcoat and suit jacket hiding the stain of it as it spread.  Shock set in and he fell, the soft rain of snowflakes falling on him as he sunk into oblivion.

The THRUSH who shot him most certainly came upon him and searched for the parcel.  Trevor was grateful that he hadn't killed him on the spot for the subterfuge.

"Monsieur, you are awake."  The nurse was pleased that the handsome young man had survived his ordeal.  Perhaps he could give her some information now, such as his name.

"Yes, yes I am.  Do you happen to have my things?  My wallet and a pen should have been in my pocket."  The nurse shook her head at that.

"We did not find a wallet monsieur, but the pen was in your inside coat pocket and … I will get it for you."

Trevor sighed with relief at that.  At least he could contact UNCLE and get out of here.  The assassin must have taken his wallet, hoping perhaps to find that it was hiding the contents of the parcel.

"Tough luck, buddy."  He snorted at the thought of disappointing THRUSH.  At least there was that bit of satisfaction.


	3. Let's Blow This Joint

The trip to UNCLE's Paris safe house took about ten minutes of what should have been a twenty minute drive to St-Germain-en-Laye.  It seemed Mark Slate was in a particular hurry and not at all intimidated by French drivers.  He left in his wake the blaring sound of honking horns and unkind phrases, all shouted in French.

Mark turned the Citroen onto a tree lined avenue in the affluent neighborhood where UNCLE chose to keep watch on important guests; in this case a very new, very female UNCLE agent.

The history of this area included occupations by Napoleon and the Nazis, something that made UNCLE's presence there audacious and somehow conciliatory.  Perhaps the better intentions of this occupation bode well for those who lived here.

April was upstairs at her bedroom window when she saw the blue Citroen pull to the curb.  She recognized it, and the driver as he emerged.

"Mark, oh thanks goodness, it's Mark."  She voiced her relief and then confusion as first Napoleon Solo and then Illya Kuryakin also got out of the car.  All three men walked to the door as April ran downstairs to meet them.

"Why are they here?  Am I already in trouble?"  She spoke out loud, and then put on the face of someone used to this type of encounter.

Mark unlocked the front door and the three men entered, coming face to face with Miss Dancer.  Napoleon's first reaction was to smile and extend his right hand, hoping to put her at ease and anxious to be a little closer to the very attractive, auburn haired agent.

"Hello Miss Dancer… April.  I am Napoleon Solo, and this is my partner Illya Kuryakin."  Illya extended his hand as well, fully aware of the blush that came across April's face as he touched her hand, enveloping it in his larger one.  Napoleon caught it as well, knew that look when it concerned his friend.

Mark was less formal, hugging his new partner and expressing his relief that she was safe.

"Oh my, I certainly have been given an impressive welcome committee.  Mark darling, of course I'm alright, but… How is Trevor?"

………..

 

Trevor Dalton was fully dressed when the Section III agent from the Paris office arrived to help him back to Headquarters.  Reports were flying back and forth concerning the events of the previous evening, of the enclave at the safe house and the state of the parcel responsible for all of the action.

Jean Pierre Leclerc knew Dalton, was fully briefed on the mission and those involved.  His instructions were to take the British agent to the safe house to rendezvous with the others.  This parcel was garnering more attention than most large scale missions, and the presence of Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin had triggered a respectable amount of speculation.  Several women staffers had volunteered for this assignment, and Leclerc knew it was because of the American; Solo had quite the reputation among even the French.

……..

 

April led the men into a living room large enough for all of them to sit comfortably, and separately.  A chaise longue was situated near a window that overlooked the garden, and was deftly avoided by each person.  It was a grouping of chairs situated around a marble top table that brought them together, allowing for the conversation to revolve around the packet that April placed there.

"I haven't looked inside gentlemen, so don't ask me what it is."  April figured it was at least a possibility to someone that she would have tried to sneak a peak at the contents.

"I'm sure you haven't April, and at the moment I am waiting to hear back from Mr. Waverly as to whether or not we will be allowed to open this package.  He has to have unanimous agreement from the other Section I Chiefs."

April looked around the table, aware that her pulse was racing.  She was trained, she was an UNCLE Section II operative; these men shouldn't make her nervous.

"What about Trevor, you haven't told me the updates on his condition."  Illya glanced sideways at Mark, then Napoleon.  He drew a breath and set about relating to April all that they knew of Dalton's escape from death and timely recovery in a French hospital.

"Oh my, that is such a relief.  I feared the worst."

Napoleon felt and then heard the warble of his communicator.  He held up his hand to silence the conversation.

"Solo here… Yes sir… Very well, we shall be on the first flight out. And sir, are we to… yes, alright we will. Solo out."

Napoleon looked around the table and was interrupted from beginning his narrative of the details by the ringing of the front doorbell.

Illya rose from the table, removed his gun from the should holster and moved towards the front door.  Everyone else at the table did the same, following behind and then lining up to engage whoever was at the door.

Illya opened the door and was immediately greeted by an UNCLE identification card.

"Monsieur, I am Jean-Pierre Leclerc, and this…"

"Trevor Dalton."

Illya stepped back and motioned the men inside to a round of handshakes and, from April, a hug that indicated how pleased she was that he was not dead.

Napoleon regained control of the room and suggested they all return to the living room and settle in for his rundown of the situation and how things would now progress.

…………

 

A Cessna 421 Golden Eagle touched down at  Ajaccio Napoleon Bonaparte Airport on the island of Corsica.  It was piloted by Kuryakin, with room for six other passengers.  Today the group that emerged from the plane were Napoleon Solo, Mark Slate, April Dancer and Trevor Dalton.  Illya deplaned last, his enjoyment of flying dispelled by the heat of the pavement and the Corsican sun.

Each member of this elite team of UNCLE agents was aware of the danger they would face as they assaulted the situation here on Corsica.  Waverly's packet had revealed a plot by THRUSH to poison the waters of the Mediterranean and hold them ransom.  It would affect tourism, fishing and every economy in this region.  Only UNCLE had the means to derail this hideous plot.

The first journey on land took the agents to the beach at Roccapina.  A perfect white sand beach with clear water, it was small and inviting on most days.  Today what greeted them was the center of a growing disturbance in the small coastal town.  The sight of it repulsed April to the point of trying to catch her breath before she became ill.  For the others it was another THRUSH plot to ruin and rule the world.


	4. By The Sea

THRUSH was embedded somewhere on the island as they manipulated this plot to poison the waters of the Mediterranean.  Fortunately the dead fish at Roccapina were the only ones reported thus far, something that led Napoleon to the conclusion that a threat was the first step of several yet to be taken.

A small hotel near the beach was waiting for the group; modest and devoid of air conditioning, it provided minimal creature comforts.  April had the privilege of her own room while the men shared two rooms between them.  There appeared to be only two other rooms in the little establishment, both of which were occupied.  Napoleon and Illya took a room at the end of the hall, leaving Mark and Trevor with the room next to April's.

After checking in and thoroughly checking out the rooms, the five met downstairs and quickly determined that their planning session should be away from the hotel.  Nothing suspicious had led to this decision, but wisdom dictated that no place was ever entirely free of listening ears.  April had spotted a cafe not far from the hotel with a covered patio for outdoor dining.  At her suggestion the team headed in that direction.

'I'm not eating fish, but what else do they have in a seaside town?"  Mark was ready for a good meal but his expectations at this point were low.  Illya was having similar thoughts on the subject but more importantly he was aware that they were being followed.  Slowing his pace slightly, Napoleon was alerted by the instincts honed over time and experience that his partner was onto something.  Rather than draw attention to it he let the Russian lag behind while he joined in more closely to the other three.

  
  
A young man in white linen followed along at a slow speed on one of the island's more popular modes of a transportation, a small motor scooter.  Illya had noticed him as they came out of the hotel but the man's continued presence just a few yards behind the UNCLE agents sent up a flag; THRUSH seemed to be aware of their presence.

As the other four continued on their way Illya ducked into a doorway to what turned out to be a small gift shop.  He immediately went to the window and watched as the scooter continued following Napoleon and the others, allowing Illya to take up the rear and observe the man.  There didn't seem to be any way for him to conceal a weapon, and looking at him now it occurred to Illya that he might just be a local who was curious about tourists.  That idea was abandoned when he followed the agents into the cafe.

Illya did double time getting to the cafe, watched as the young man took a table for himself and continued to watch the group of UNCLE agents.  Not willing to let this go on much longer he decided to join their shadow and find out the man's mission.

"Hello."  The man was startled at first, but then he seemed to want to speak to Illya.  He stuttered slightly, trying to find the right English words to explain himself.

"You are here to help us I think."  Illya was a little taken aback, he hadn't expected to be identified so quickly and not by someone he now took to be a civilian, just a local resident.

"And what makes you think we are here…" The boy jumped in, he didn't have time to waste.

"You are here to help, I know it.  Those others, they are trying to destroy us, to starve us and … Please, help us."

The plea was sincere, Illya had no doubt.  But how?

"All right, what if we are her to help with your problem.  Do you know who is responsible for killing the fish?"  Perhaps this boy was going to be helpful after all.  He was bright, that was obvious.

"I know where they are, I can take you there."  By this time Napoleon and the others had relocated to the table and were intently listening to the conversation.  The boy looked around at each of them, his eyes imploring them to do something, to believe him.

Napoleon saw both fear and bravery on his face.  Fear for the consequences of this fish killing poison and the courage to do something about it.  He was impressed.

"What is your name? Mine is Napoleon, and this is Illya.  The others are Mark, April and Trevor." Each one acknowledged the introduction with a nod of the head.

"My name is Antonio Capelli."

"We are to help you son, but we won't put you in danger.  You can tell us how to get to this place, right?"

"I can, but it will be difficult.  It is better if I take you there.  I won't get in your way, I promise.  Just please stop them before anyone else…"  At that he broke down and wept.  Surely something bad had happened of which they were not yet aware.

Illya put his hand on the boy's arm, a measure of consolation that seemed to comfort him.

"My papa, he was hired to show those men around the island, but…' Antonio took a deep breath in an effort to keep from crying.

"They killed my father.  He helped them, and then they killed him.  I saw it…' Another pause as he collected his composure.

"I was hiding because papa had told me to stay home.  I disobeyed him and followed.  I wish I hadn't, but I'm glad I know who did it.  Will you help us?  Will you please catch those men who killed my father?"

April was holding back tears, she hadn't been prepared to witness a young boy give an account of his father's murder.  But they were here to help, and she knew this was what she had signed on for.

Napoleon asked Antonio to sit at another table while the agents discussed their plans.  It might be dangerous to let the boy lead th em to the THRUSH location, but according to him it was the only way for them to find it.  One of them would need to stay behind with Antonio to make certain he was safe.  April held her breath, fully expecting that it would be her.  To her surprise Napoleon decided Trevor was the one; he had been injured and in spite of being here, it was logical to let him take care of the boy.

April looked out of the window at the peaceful scene on the street, the Mediterranean beyond and the awful event they were hoping to stop.  A memory flashed before her, a travel poster she had saved when she was just a teenager.  It was the beginning of her desire to see the world and live a life that had more to it than marriage and keeping house.  Look at where she was now, and who she was with.

  
  
Napoleon and Illya sat down once more with Antonio and gave him a ru rundown on their plans.  They would need to go under cover of darkness, the path to the THRUSH compound easily watched during the daylight hours.  In the meantime it was determined that he would remain in their care.  He was an orphan now, since his father's death.  Antonio's mother had died several years earlier in childbirth, leaving the youngster and his father to fend for themselves.  Antonio's aunt Celia was his closest family and the one with whom he and his little sister lived since THRUSH killed his father.

Napoleon insisted on meeting Antonio's aunt, it wouldn't do to expose the boy to danger and he wasn't going to do anything without a caregiver's permission.  Personally he couldn't imagine that Aunt Celia would allow it, which meant trying to find THRUSH without his help.

Napoleon and Illya escorted Antonio to the home he shared with his aunt and sister, a small cottage with a view of the water.  Celia was out front tending to a small garden, a patch of red tomatoes towering over row of what appeared to be scallions.

When she saw Antonio with the two well dressed men she immediately felt concern; the boy might have gotten into trouble.

He ran to her and hugged her, letting her return the gesture.  She looked over his head at the two men as they approached.

"Ciao Signorina.  My name is Napoleon Solo, and this is my partner Illya Kuryakin.  We are with … well, we are with a law enforcement agency and have come here to look into the epidemic in your waters."

She looked from one to the other, sizing them up as she took in the details of their appearance.

"You mean the dead fish?"

"Yes, that is exactly what we mean."  Napoleon smiled his warmest expression, hopeful that she wouldn't be too suspicious of them.

"And you want Antonio to help you, yes." Not a question.

Illya held back a smile.  This woman was sharp, and very pretty.

"We have gained a great deal of information from Antonio, he is a very intelligent and brave young man."  That did little to soften her expression.  She had lost her sister and her brother-in-law, she wouldn't lose her nephew as well.

"You must leave him out of this.  These men murdered his father and they will kill you, and Antonio, if you get too close."  Napoleon reached out his hand, pulling it back slowly as he spoke.

"We know these people, our organization is dedicated to stopping them.  And we won't put Antonio at risk, we simply need him to lead us there.  One of my agents will bring him back home, he will never get close enough to get hurt.  We won't take him without your permission, but we intend to stop these people.  It will be easier with Antonio's help."

Celia looked from Napoleon to Illya, then into Antonio's eyes.  He wanted to avenge his father's death, but he wouldn't be reckless.  These men were sent to help them, he was willing to stay out of their way.

"All right signores, but you must promise me that he will be safe.  Those men are evil, they must be stopped.  Just do not let them hurt Antonio."

Illya saw something in her eyes, the same bravery that Antonio possessed.  He had been like that once, had burned with a need to see people suffer for what he had suffered in losing his family.  

A different enemy taunted them now.  They had to stop this one before it killed again.

   



	5. Looks Like Trouble

Four agents and a teenage boy traveled with great stealth along the rocky path that overlooked a scene of fading daylight dancing on Mediterranean hues of blue and green.  Trevor walked alone, trailing Mark and April.  Napoleon and Illya were in the lead with Antonio, and all of them were dressed in black in order to blend in better with the approaching night.

Antonio was leading this group with the ease of someone familiar with his surroundings.  He faltered momentarily when he reached the spot where he had seen his father's murder, squelching the image as quickly as it had come; he needed to be clear headed.

"There, the men who killed my father came from that cave."  Antonio was pointing, his voice somber.

Napoleon checked over his shoulder, confident that his team was ready to move forward.  Trevor would take Antonio back to his aunt and then wait for communication about the mission.  Napoleon felt it necessary to ensure that the boy and his aunt Celia were safe.

"All right then, that's what we needed.  Trevor, you and Antonio go back and wait.  Keep a keen eye, it's possible that THRUSH might figure out that they were observed and if so…"

He didn't need to finish that sentence.  Trevor was thinking the same thing, and he was not going to allow any harm to come to these two people.

"I've got it mate.  No one gets past me, and no one had better try."  Napoleon slapped the British agent on the back, nodding to him and to Antonio."

As they turned to go, the remaining four focused on the cave across from their location.  A faint light was visible, indicating activity within.  If this was the place from which all of the THRUSH activity emanated then this ought to be the operation to shut it down.  The entire thing seemed more exploratory than definitive.  The incident of the dead fish had occurred over the past four days, but nothing was being done to indicate a master plan in action.  There were no threats, only speculation on the part of those who were aware of it.  Illya was the first to head down the slope, his agility envied by the other three as they all began the descent. It took only a few minutes for all of them to read the bottom, the night now a complete covering for them.

Napoleon motioned for April and Mark to move in to the left of the opening, hugging the rocks in order to avoid being seen.  He and Illya took a more direct route, challenging fate to keep them invisible as they moved like crabs on the sand, their dark figures more like shadows than men.

As the two neared the opening they checked to see where April and Mark were.  As Napoleon had hoped, the other two were nearly to the same spot.  This meant that no one was watching from any vantage point that might have betrayed them.  Perhaps the lights meant nothing, for this was surely not a well guarded place.

Illya went in first, his gun drawn and senses on alert.  No sounds from within were heard, and when he turned to look back, Napoleon had a look on his face that told him he had reached the same conclusion.

"There's no one home tovarisch."  Illya nodded.  The place was empty, the light a false beacon to the UNCLE agents.  April and Mark came in and looked around, puzzled at first but equally certain that the cave was empty.

"THRUSH may be have using this before, but right now it looks more like a hideout for kids and lovers.  The lantern is a puzzle however…'  Illya's voice trailed off as he considered why a lantern was light the interior of an empty cave.

"Get out! Go, get out now!" Illya turned as he yelled at the others, extending his hands to them as though to push them through the cave entrance and out to safety.  In a matter of seconds after they hit the beach a rumble of noise erupted behind them.  The blast was enough to generate a gust of hot air through the opening and push the four agents forward so that they landed face down in the sand.  Illya took the brunt of it since he was in the back and now, as the other began to stir, he was lying unconscious.

"Illya…'  Napoleon was at his partner's side immediately.

"He's out, but I don't see any blood." April gasped at the thought of what might have been.  First Trevor and now Illya; she wasn't sure she could take much more of her friends and colleagues being injured.

Illya moved, grunting as he did so.  Finally he opened his eyes to the sight of the other three standing over him and staring.

"I think they might have laid a trap."  That made Napoleon laugh.

"I think you might be right Illya.  Now, let's get you up and us back to Celia's.  You okay to walk?"  Illya snorted at the idea of not being okay.

"I am fine.  Just … "

_But that was all he said._  
  
  
  



	6. The Long and Winding

Illya was staring at something that made his stomach lurch, a sight that his fellow agents had somehow missed.

"Do you not see what is in front of us?" His voice was deep and solemn sounding, directing the others to what the Russian was looking at.

Napoleon started towards the figure on the beach; a lone body, partially decomposed and surrounded by dead fish. A spear protruded from the body, obviously the cause of death.

"Do you think…?" April hated that it was probably Antonio's father; a victim of THRUSH and whatever diabolical scheme he had discovered.

"It is. This is my father." Antonio was suddenly in their midst, kneeling down beside the body of his dead father. "Papa… " And then he wept.

"Let's get him out of here, we'll ask questions later." Napoleon took Antonio by the shoulders, lifting him up, surprised when the boy turned into him and his grief poured onto the UNCLE agent's chest. April felt her eyes well up with tears, the sight of this almost more than her own emotions could endure.

"I know son, it's a terrible thing and we are all so very sorry. But we need to go now, THRUSH set this trap for us and anyone else who might come looking. We need to get you back to your aunt Celia, and we need to find the people who did this to your father."

Antonio pushed away from Napoleon at that, looking up with a new sense of impending manhood, a determination to right this awful wrong. He would do as Mr. Solo said, but he would be the one to get justice for his Papa.

"Si signore, I understand. But… " Illya understood what was coming next.

"We will make certain that he is buried Antonio. We will not leave him here." At that Antonio nodded his understanding and turned towards his town, over the cliffs and beyond this awful scene.

The next morning found the four agents from UNCLE back in the little cafe from the day before, working on a plan to track down the perpetrators of this murderous plot. Not only were the fishermen being deprived of their livelihoods, a young man was bereft of his father. Napoleon knew that Illya was particularly affected by this situation; his own father had been taken away by Stalin's secret police during the _Yezhovshchina,_ the great purge administered by Nikolai Yezhov. Illya was only five years old when his musician father was torn away from his family, leaving only Illya and his mother. When she was betrayed by a family member, only young Illya remained, and was ushered into the elite echelons of Soviet training after his natural abilities and intellect were determined to be of use to the State and its affairs.**

Illya was sitting with Antonio, possibly sharing a part of his own story. Napoleon couldn't be sure, but the boy was looking at the blond with an intensity that told the American a connection had been made that, in all probability, no one else could have achieved.

April sat with Napoleon and Mark, watching the scene. Trevor was seated alone, his thoughts going back to the night in Paris when he was left for dead. It wasn't supposed to have been like that. When Napoleon happened to look over his shoulder towards the British agent, he noticed another man approach and leave an envelope on the bar, next to where Trevor was seated. The man left, not in a rush, and not without Trevor taking notice and, to Napoleon's surprise, acknowledging him with an almost imperceptible nod. Not everyone would have caught it, but the CEA of UNCLE Northwest had an uncanny ability to read people and situations. He didn't like what he saw, and almost immediately knew that Trevor Dalton was working for the other side in this situation.

He leaned in and whispered in April's ear; she immediately got up and feigned forgetfulness, saying she'd be back as soon as she went to the hotel to get her … The last few words were unintelligible as she rushed out of the cafe, her eyes on the man who had walked past Trevor. Her assignment was to follow the man and report back on his location. Napoleon was impressed with her quick action; she hadn't asked why, jumping into action and covering her departure with the ease of a seasoned spy.

Illya had seen the strange man as well, took note of Trevor's reaction and of April's quick departure. It was Dalton's turn to act, and he did so without hesitation as he watched Dancer's departure. Of course he'd been caught, it was ridiculous to think he could be safe after that stupid stunt. It was almost as though…

"I give up. I am surrendering to you, I will tell you everything." Dalton knew he'd been set up by THRUSH, that he should never have trusted anyone from that slimy crew to deal honestly with him. He would rather take his chances by confessing than trying to outrun these agents; the odds were against him.

"Blimey, are out of your mind mate? What could have driven you to working for THRUSH?" Mark was outraged to think another Brit would betray them.

Napoleon and Illya moved in, one on each side of Dalton now as they prepared to escort him to the office of the local polizia. They would interrogate him there and call for transport to a larger UNCLE facility where he would be held until decisions were made regarding his future. A blue American made vehicle was parked outside, a rental that had seen better days but would do for now. They loaded the British spy into the back seat, his hands cuffed behind him.

Trevor was anxious to explain things, to get them to understand why he did it. His story was not that unusual; THRUSH had threatened his family unless he cooperated. Their scheme to poison the waters of the Mediterranean was a ruse to lure certain operatives to this location. The trap that was set for them had been obvious, but there was something else. Something that he needed for them to know about.

"Look Napoleon, I know what I did is wrong. They gave me the parcel and told me to walk through that park in Paris. I had to tell New York about it and ask for support. I didn't expect to be shot and left for dead though, and when I survived it… well, I honestly thought I could just get back to being an UNCLE agent and help you lot solve the puzzle of it. I didn't know they'd murdered Antonio's father, honestly I didn't."

Napoleon was furious at Trevor for the deceit, but when he heard about the threats to the man's family, he could understand how someone might capitulate to the demands made by THRUSH.

"And you are telling us that we were the target? But why?" Illya was still puzzling over it, the tactics of terrorizing a man through threats to his family a familiar theme to the young Soviet. He wasn't ignorant of such things in his homeland, and thought back to his own father's disappearance at the hands of the Secret Police.

Trevor Dalton felt the weight of his actions and knew there would be a price to pay regardless of his reasons for doing the wrong thing. He only hoped that THRUSH wouldn't retaliate against him now, that his family would still be safe.

As though reading his mind, Napoleon assured him now that UNCLE would take care of his family. His mother and father, a younger sister and a grandfather were the objects of the threat. Napoleon called in to Mr. Waverly to report this new development and to ask that a team be sent to the Dalton home immediately and apprised of the threat to their safety.

"So what do we do now? And where is April? She should have returned by now." Illya was aware that Napoleon had set her on the trail of the man who left an envelope full of incriminating cash. THRUSH almost certainly wanted the satisfaction of discrediting a rising star in UNCLE's ranks while they continued to plot the demise of Solo and Kuryakin.

Napoleon looked at his watch. They had moved from the cafe to the police station, leaving Mark behind to wait for April's return. After two hours neither of that team had joined Solo and Kuryakin, nor were they returning a communication asking for their location.

Trevor watched and waited along with Napoleon and Illya. He liked April, admired Mark as a fellow Brit and dedicated UNCLE agent. He didn't want to be the man responsible for…

"I think they might have been taken. The man in charge of this area has people everywhere, and he would have been watching that cafe. That's how the messenger knew to find me there, because I haven't contacted anyone. I really thought they were going to leave me alone, that I could put it all behind me without any more damage."

Illya turned on him, his recollection of the grief in Antonio's voice as he spoke of his father.

"Your comrades killed Antonio's father. It's too late to to put things behind you." Napoleon took note of the vehemence in Illya's delivery. He wouldn't want to be on the other end of that.

"I didn't know Illya, I didn't know…' Dalton's voice trailed off, he knew there was no way to shed his responsibility in this wretched affair. "I'm truly sorry."

Napoleon decided to leave Trevor in the custody of the local police while he and Illya went in search of their missing friends. If Trevor was right then April and Mark were just two more pawns in this game of catching him and Illya. No more casualties on his watch, Napoleon was unwilling to sacrifice anyone else.

"Let's go Illya. We have some things to take care of."

They got up to go, but Trevor had one more thing to say.

"Go to Celia's." Napoleon and Illya both turned, quizzical expressions on both of their faces that soon turned to a scowl of disbelief.

"Are you certain?" It was a serious allegation, unthinkable considering her brother-in-law's death at the hands of THRUSH. Dalton nodded, his eyes hooded with the dismay of his circumstance.

"Yes, and be careful. She isn't what you think."

Napoleon and Illya exchanged knowing looks, nodding to Trevor as they left. Was nothing in this affair what it seemed?

_Celia Valenzia had some regrets about the death of her brother-in-law, but as long as Antonio never found out she would sleep at night just as she had during all of her years as a THRUSH agent. She didn't have a glamorous job, but they did pay her well to pass along bits of information and to entertain the occasional important person. Celia was a natural beauty, and part of her job this time was to seduce one or both of the UNCLE agents, leading them to a certain appointment with death. Now it was more probable that they had been victims of the explosion she heard. Oh well..._

Knowing that Antonio's aunt was a THRUSH operative had given Napoleon and Illya an advantage. They left Antonio with the police, along with strict instructions to not let him leave. He wasn't safe as long as the UNCLE agents were still being hunted, and Mark and April were in danger until Solo and Kuryakin could rescue them. A thorough search as well as some fortunate observations from a few shop owners provided enough clues to send the UNCLE agents on the trail of a silver Fiat that had been seen with a redheaded woman inside. It had to be April.

The Fiat trail led to the hotel, where all of this had begun. It came as no surprise, since they had suspected that their rooms were bugged after they left that first day. It was decided that a frontal assault was the quickest and most efficient way to handle things.

Napoleon entered the lobby first, striking up a conversation with the clerk as Illya sauntered in, his body language suggesting that he was inebriated. Napoleon made a dive for his partner as the blond feigned a sudden loss of balance.

"Hey, tovarisch… easy boy, I think you've had a little to much vino." He turned and winked at the clerk, who now assumed that the two would be easy marks for the men waiting behind the office door.

Just as they anticipated, a flurry of activity ensued as the THRUSH assaulted their prey. Illya sprang out of his stupor and flattened the first man with one ferocious left hook, leaving the second to waiver in shock before Napoleon struck him down as well. When they both turned to look at the clerk, he raised his arms and uttered something in Italian that sounded like 'I surrender'.

"Where are they? Where are our friends?" The clerk pointed to the door with one hand as he maintained the other arm straight in the air. Illya shook his head and walked past the poor man, swinging open the door to look in at April and Mark, both tied to chairs and gagged with dinner napkins.

Illya removed the gags first and was joined by Napoleon as both of the junior agents were untied. Solo had quickly darted the other three people in the hotel's little lobby. Right now their objective was to get to Celia and shut down this entire operation.

While Trevor and Antonio waited at the police station, the four UNCLE agents made their way to the home of Celia Valenzia. She was unaware of what had transpired in the last two hours, her world was not yet rocked by the intrusion of those she considered enemies. A life spent in the employ of THRUSH had hardened her emotions, except for Antonio. She loved the boy in spite of his parents, and had not shed a tear when either of them died. Her primary objective in life was to please the Hierarchy, to remain solvent within its treacherous domains.

When a knock came at her door, Celia put on the happy face of the woman she wanted people to see. To her surprise, the faces she saw were those of the people she had expected to die out on the beach. She hid her shock as several scenarios ran through her mind. None of them ended well for her.

"Signor Solo, I was not expecting you." It was a predictable response, one to which each of the people at her door silently agreed.

"I don't suppose you were Celia.' Napoleon spoke as he stepped inside, ignoring the lack of invitation.

"We have Trevor, and Antonio…" Celia looked surprised at that.

"Antonio? He has nothing to do with this!" Finally, a break in her facade. She did care about Antonio, something that had become the only crack in her smooth veneer.

"He's fine, we know about Trevor though, and you. Celia, this ends here. You need to tell us who is running this operation and where we can find him." Solo's expression was stern, and Celia had no doubt that she would be an easy sacrifice… to either side.

"Him? What makes you assume that it is a man?" Illya caught a look from April, both of them thinking the same thing. April's memory of the dead body of Antonio's father washed over her. Had Celia done that?

"Are you saying this is your operation? How could you do that, kill those people? They were your family?" Woman to woman, the challenge was in April's voice as she stared down the THRUSH facing her.

"You think it was easy? I am a woman in a man's world, a man's organization. We have to fight for every foothold, every little victory. You think your life with UNCLE will be any different?" Celia was suddenly emboldened with a zeal she had not revealed previously. Years of indoctrination and loyalty to the Hierarchy fueled her anger at having been caught by these people. She had been so close to gaining a position here with her little scheme. It would have worked, she knew it should have.

April's face was flushed with anger as she considered a response to that, but instead felt Illya's hand on her arm; it was better to not wrangle verbally with Celia. There was no point to it in the end.

Celia Valenzia was taken into custody, debriefed and divested of her plans, the information and personnel. The fish were no longer dying and the coastal village returned to its normal routine of hosting tourists and travelers. Two days after discovering the body of Antonio's father, the agents and their young friend were among those enjoying the pleasures of the region as they basked in the sun; the newly replenished optimism of life returning to normal was inviting and greedily embraced by them all. While they all regretted the fate of Trevor Dalton, being stripped of his status as an agent of the U.N.C.L.E., there was no doubt that he could have gone to his superiors for help when confronted with the blackmail scheme. What was the use of working for the Command if you didn't believe it had your back? April shook her head for the umpteenth time as she ruminated over the loss of the British agent.

"I just don't understand how he could do it. I hope I never have to confront something like that…' Her voice trailed off as she considered that, being so new to this job, she really had no idea what lay ahead.

"You guys will have my back won't you?" All eyes were on her as the men nodded as one.

"April luv, you're my partner. Don't ever think you can't come to me and tell me anything. Anything, you understand?" Now it was April nodding her head. She looked at each face, Napoleon and Illya, Mark…

"You guys are the best, and I must be the luckiest girl in the world."

"To the new girl then, long life and happiness, and great success as the one and only female agent in UNCLE." Illya raised the bottle of wine they had brought, then poured into each of the glasses held up for the toast.

" _First female agent_. You guys are about to be invaded." April winked at them, smiling at the thought of a future filled with competent women who would follow in her footsteps.

Being the New Girl wasn't a bad thing, especially when she was surrounded by men like these three. The future looked good from here.


End file.
